“Did you get everything you need?” asked Nellie.
“I think so. How about you?” replied Cassandra.
Nellie looked through her cart full of purchases. “Yep. If I didn’t remember it, I probably didn’t need it.”
They wove their way though the StuffMart toward the cashiers. The store was set up like a maze. Each aisle lead to exciting new bargains.
“I hope they have self check-out here,” said Nellie.
“I’m not sure.”
Nellie sorted through her cart again. She frowned as she looked at her selections.
“What’s wrong?” asked Cassandra.
“Nothing. I just don’t want some stranger looking at what I buy,” explained Nellie.
“What difference does it make?”
“I don’t want anyone knowing what deodorant I use, or my food choices or if I need hemorrhoid cream,” said Nellie.
Cassandra put her hand on Nellie’s arm and looked concerned. “Have they flared up again?”
“No. That’s not the point. I don’t want my personal business paraded in front of someone making minimum wage,” said Nellie.
“That’s what I call a First World problem,” laughed Cassandra.
“Privacy isn’t a First World problem.”
“Owning enough to make privacy a concern certainly is,” said Cassandra.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“If you’re too poor to own anything, even your identity has no value,” said Cassandra.
Nellie looked shocked. “That’s a terrible thing to say. Everyone has value.”
“You’d hope so, but in a lot of places, life is cheap.”
“I’m not sure I believe you, said Nellie.
“Really? Try being a woman in a country where women are considered property.”
Nellie pushed her cart quietly down the aisle past a sales display for body wash.
Cassandra laughed to herself. “Just be thankful you’re in a place where you are valuable enough for privacy to matter.”